Remembering my dad on father's day

His smile was quite, this time.  More of a grin.

His eyes communicated with me in ways they had never done before.  They said, "I love you. Don't go."

So I stayed and chatted more.

He sat quietly in the corner... smiling, watching us as we, the children, my husband and I, rummaged through the boxes of gifts my mother brought out.

Someone from her church had given her things ... .  She couldn't use them, and as things go when you have a large family they figured we could.  They were right.

"Strange," I thought.  My dad had not cracked one single joke.  Instead he sat back looking.  From time-to-time, I would look up at him from my seat on the floor and see that he was watching me ... staring at me.  I would smile at him and he would smile back. 

"I wonder what's wrong with my daddy? I hope he isn't going to die.  I hope this won't be my last time seeing him," I thought silently while there and all the way home.

My observations of him were frightening.  I'd never thought like this before.
"Stop that Angie."  I scowled myself.

Before we left headed home, I hugged him.  "Bye daddy I said.  I love you."

"Bye honey."  He said back. 

I was right.  That was the last time I saw my dad.

I knew I wouldn't have my parents forever, and my dad was 72,  but I just didn't have any idea I would loose him so soon.

As I get older I am beginning to realize more and more how fleeting our days are. 

Seems like just yesterday I was complaining about him being too strick.  Embarrassing me by not letting me talk on the phone after nine, and always wanting to know who I was hanging out with.

I will miss him ... my daddy.

"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us." ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

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